


Countdown

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Canon Related, F/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Years, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The previous year had been hell, but if he's starting the new one with Marie, with a kiss, he figures the new year has <i>gotta</i> be good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countdown

“Ten!”

It was like some demonic cult, all of them in that room, forced into formal wear, chanting at a massive clock.

And they call _him_ insane. As if they’re any better.

“Nine!”

Behind him, Spirit was wobbling, one of his arms around Blair, who had absolutely gotten into the catnip, and the other arm clutching a bottle of something likely alcoholic to his chest, muttering about Maka under his breath. Maka, for her part, could be located on the opposite side of the room, having tucked herself between both Soul and Crona, her hands clutching both of their wrists as she bounced in time to the chanting.

“Eight!” the room called out, and Stein took note that Crona had shyly found Kid’s hand, as well, their fingers entwined. It seemed that the boy who constantly lamented anything lacking balance had found his balance after all. He found it ironic that the most asymmetrical person in the room was who Death the Kid, number one fanboy of symmetry, ended up getting in a relationship with, but to each their own. As Crona’s temporary guardian with Marie, he was just thankful he wouldn’t have to murder the boy. Kid was looking at Crona like they were the only person in the room, so Stein was semi-certain he could keep his scalpels in his stitched pockets for the night.

“Seven!” and Stein could hear the quietest call of “Why can’t it be eight?” from Kid’s general vicinity, Crona’s soft giggle barely heard over the shuffle of the crowd and the chime of the clock. And— oh, Death. Spirit had found his way from Blair’s semi-protective clutches and found himself stumbling up onto the stage where their Lord was. Stein shook his head even as Spirit slurred out “S-six!” and Death came forward, one his massive hands holding Spirit’s shoulder as though to balance him.

Stein couldn’t be certain through the mask, but Death looked. . .happy. And he couldn’t blame him. It was nice to finally put all the troubles of Arachnophobia and Kishins and bloodthirsty snakes behind them. Stein, for the first time in a long time, felt like he could unwind without having to fear for the safety of those in his general vicinity.

More so than usual, of course.

“Five!” he heard, and in that moment, he used his massive, 6 foot 10 height to spy the way people in the crowd were shuffling aside as though to make space for someone. His eyebrows furrowed as he spotted blonde hair making its way to him and then, Marie had bobbed and weaved her way back to him, having slipped away to grab drinks for them. Her miniscule size was somewhat compensated with what he suspected were eight inch heels, but she was still teeny. She teetered slightly as she came up to him, two glasses in her hands. Her flared out hips bumped into multiple people as she made her way over, grinning and avoiding the drunkenly offended calls of “Hey!”

“Stein!” she said, instead, seeming to tip forward and he was concerned that she would topple, so he reached out to stabilize her by grabbing her upper arm, but she only smiled wider, shoving a glass into his hand, instead. “I got us a drink!”

As when she first left, Stein tried to reiterate. “I don’t drink-“

“For the new year!” she cut in, giddy and bubbly and practically glowing and how could he turn her down when she was just so cheerful? He’d prefer her smiling over anything else. She deserved at least that much after all the grief she had gone through that entire year. She was almost drowned out by the cheer of “Four!”, and she only came in closer, tucking beneath his arm as she clinked their glasses together. He blinked down at her, watching the way she comfortably settled against him.

She was warm and soft, and from his vantage point, the view of her cleavage was particularly nice, something he was certain she planned, since she was still wearing that plain silver chain he’d gifted her when he made her a Death Scythe all those years ago. It seemed she wanted to call attention to that particular area, and he liked the way the silver contrasted against her sun-kissed skin.

“Alright,” he found himself saying, and Marie smiled, lifting her chin so she could look up at him.

“Oh!” she called out, seemingly noticing something, and she was down in an instant, close to the ground so she could set her glass on the floor before she shot back up, her now free hands coming to his collar.

Even in heels she seemed to have to stretch to reach, and he stooped down instinctively in order to make it easier on her, something she certainly seemed to appreciate. “Your tie is crooked,” she said in explanation without having to wait for him to ask what the matter was. Her fingers immediately went to adjust it as she smirked in amusement. He had insisted that he could do it himself when they were getting ready to leave.

Damn, he thought he had finally gotten it right. He usually despised ties, preferring a bowtie or a clip-on, but with a best friend, and he does use the term loosely, like Spirit Albarn, there was no way he was going to get away with not wearing a tie to the New Year’s Party the DWMA had held, roping him in by saying he was a “chaperone”.

Somehow, being a “chaperone” turned into being just a regular guest, and being a regular guest ended up with him having to reserve a table, and having to reserve a table, he needed to know which people he was going to be with, and knowing which people he was going to be with turned into Marie being his. . .date.

And if there was one thing Spirit Albarn would not tolerate, it was Franken Stein not putting in proper levels of effort in order to go on a date with Marie Mjolnir.

He’d grumbled and complained, but after twenty minutes of accidentally twisting his own hands into the tie, he’d finally managed to tie the damn thing in something that at least resembled a tie.

Or, he thought he did.

He’d tried, though.

“There,” Marie said when she felt satisfied that everything was in place, “all done.” Her palms smoothed down the collar of his jacket, making the entire ordeal feel as though it were stretching out. “Three!” had already been called out, but her fingers still didn’t leave, only playing with the buttons of his shirt, instead, as she snuck a glance up at him.

She had worn a different eyepatch for the event, one with lace on it. She’d really dressed up. He supposed a woman like Marie Mjolnir wanted every opportunity to spent four hours in the bathroom and in front of the mirror and he had to admit that she was certainly aesthetically pleasing in her black and yellow dress.

Then again, he found her aesthetically pleasing without it, too.

“Stein?” she questioned, and he blinked, realizing their eyes had been locked. Or, rather, that his eyes were locked on her, but that her eye was focusing somewhat more down, where his mouth was. Shit, he had been staring.

She didn’t seem to mind, however. So was she.

“Marie,” he replied back, practically unheard over the howl of “Two!”, and from his peripheral, he could see Spirit falling against Death’s chest, mimicking the position Stein and Marie were in. In fact, multiple pairs had turned to face each other, their hands on upper arms, on waists, on cheeks, between other hands. Marie’s hold had slid so that one of her palms was settled over where his heart was located, though of course it was beneath his sternum. Still, he knew she could feel it beating, the pulse getting slightly faster.

She looked away for a moment, biting her full lower lip as she caught the sight of the clock to the side and he took the moment to bring his only free hand to the space between her shoulder blades. Marie was too small for anything lower, comfortably, though her heels certainly helped some. She seemed to jolt at his touch, but in a way that was less surprised and more pleased, her body pressing into his palm even as she leaned against him.

“One!” the room called out, and he took in a deep breath right when she did, realizing that she had been stretching up to meet him as he hunched.

All it took was a smile. He knew her down to the soul. He knew what she wanted, had known what she wanted for a long time.

Besides, there was no way she would be able to reach, she was just too short. He’d have to be the one to make the first move. So, he did, curling his shoulders in further and tilting his face, meeting her in the middle as she threw one arm around his neck and he held the glass of champagne off to the side, far away from them. In his ears, he heard cheers and the loud noise that indicated that it was midnight, but he almost didn’t care. His hand on Marie’s back pushed slightly so she was pressed closer to him and he felt like all the tension in him drained away when she kissed him back, making him feel light.

The last year, he’d gone through hell.

But if he was starting the new one off with a kiss, with Marie, with a _kiss_ from _Marie_ , where she tasted like fizz and rock-candy, where her fingers were looping through his hair, where her smile was pressed to his, he figured this year was going to be good.


End file.
